


Cold Walls

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arkham Asylum, Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gift Giving, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nygmobblepositivity, Nygmobblepot, Nygmobblepot Week 2017, nygmobblepot week, visiting hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 19:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12175341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Seventh/Final Fic for Nygmobblepot Week. Prompt 'Free Day'.After weeks of avoiding Oswald's attempts to visit him in Arkham following his arrest by Jim Gordon, Ed finally decides to face the music.





	Cold Walls

‘Nygma? Ya got a visitor. Again’.

Ed sighs and gets up from his cot. He brushes down his striped prison uniform in a bid to make himself presentable and begins to follow the guard downstairs to the interview room.  
As they walk down the hallway, Ed tunes out the maniacal laughter and mindless gibbering of the incarcerated cellmates and tries to focus his mind.

He’s been avoiding this meeting for far too long.  
He knows it’s Penguin waiting in the interview room. It’s been his name on the presents Ed has been receiving for four weeks now. All of which sit untouched in his room, piled in a corner. He’s examined each one briefly as they’ve arrived but not in depth. He doesn’t trust the guards or their ‘routine security searches’ of every object given to an inmate from external sources. Penguin is a cunning creature and the guards are greedy. Ed is a particularly unpopular inmate and knows it would take very little money for Penguin to convince them to pass him something deadly disguised as something innocuous.

So, he has ignored the gifts, even though the sweater has been awfully tempting during the cold, restless nights he has lain awake, staring at the ceiling.

Then again, perhaps there is nothing sinister about the gifts at all and Penguin is simply trying to be friendly?  
Ed has heard the rumours of course: that Penguin has returned to the city and swiftly retaken control after months of unexplained absence.  
Ed knows better than to believe it after his last encounter with Penguin.  
He can still see it in his mind’s eye: Penguin standing there smiling brainlessly, covered in tar and feathers. Wings well and truly clipped.  
It had made Ed so angry and upset that he had unceremoniously dismissed Penguin from his apartment. He regretted it of course but had swallowed down the useless guilt by focusing on the task ahead: removing Jim Gordon from play.  
How could they have done that to someone as ruthless, as powerful, as Penguin?!   
To Ed it had been like seeing a predatory animal trapped in a circus: toothless and domesticated, mindlessly performing the tricks drilled into its brain by its masters designed to suppress its natural instincts to hunt and kill.  
This idea of ending up that way himself is even worse to Ed than Penguin having recovered his sanity.  
He dreads seeing Penguin like that again. He fears what it represents.  
Is that what this place does to you?  
Will he end up like that one day?  
Trapped behind a docile demeanour, clawing at the walls of his own mind?

Every gift has coincided with a visit from Penguin to the asylum and every time Ed has been told who it is waiting for him, Ed has declined to meet him.  
It is because of a potent mixture of shame and fear for his life.  
On the one hand if Penguin is still ‘sane’, Ed will probably be forced to endure some kind of pitying speech about how Penguin had ‘tried to warn’ him about pursuing a career as a criminal mastermind. Despite his short lived and humiliating debut as a villain, Ed is not about to be talked down to by someone in a bobble hat!  
On the other hand, if the rumours are true and Penguin is back to his old self, Ed knows he won't be there to talk. Well, perhaps with the exception of a brief monologue or torture session before killing Ed on the spot for casting him out of his apartment in his hour of need.  
But the visits and presents have kept coming and Ed has realised he will have to face his demon sooner or later.  
Previously he has always simply opted for ‘later’.

But now, having suffered yet another sleepless night and yet another day of Arkham’s mind numbing routine, Ed’s spirit is close to breaking.  
He needs a diversion, no matter how deadly it may be and so he has decided to meet Penguin.  
At this point, death would actually be a relief.  
At least he could get some rest.

The guard ushers him into the interview room and leaves, locking the door behind him.  
Ed is surprised by this but realises Penguin probably wants privacy for their reunion.  
No witnesses.

He is also surprised by Penguin.  
No bobble hat or knit wear this time.  
It seems the rumours have been correct.  
Penguin is sitting at the table, hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting for Ed to sit down.  
Ed knows next to nothing about fashion but he knows the suit Penguin is wearing is custom, the tailored, grey pinstripes offset by ivory cufflinks and an embroidered grey pocket square in his breast pocket.  
Penguin is also wearing a relaxed smile too which puts Ed on edge.  
Trying to disguise his rising nervousness, Ed strides to the table and sits down.

Penguin opens his mouth to speak but Ed cuts him off, his curiosity overpowering the caution he had intended.

‘No offence and not to tempt fate but are you crazy?’ he asks, ‘You just got out of this place and you came back in here willingly?’

‘As a guest’, Penguin says, tapping his visitor badge.

He looks oddly perplexed at Ed’s question which confuses Ed. He had chosen such a strong opening to hopefully just get the execution over and done with but Penguin’s just sitting there.  
There is also another gift wrapped present on the table.

‘You look good’, Ed says, eyeing the present cautiously, trying to discern its true nature.  
It can’t be filled with poison gas at least.  
Unless Penguin’s hidden a gas mask on his person somewhere…

‘I feel good’, Penguin laughs, ‘Much better than the last time you saw me right? Amazing what a little murder will do for your complexion’.

Ed takes a deep breath.  
So, murder it is then.

‘You know what? That’s fine. If anything, you'll be doing me a favour’.

‘A favour? Oh! Of course, here you are’.

Penguin slides the present over to Ed.  
Ed takes a deep breath and begins to unwrap it.  
He can feel Penguin’s eyes on him and sense his anticipation.  
Ed feels a sense morbid curiosity to find out how Penguin has decided to dispatch him.  
He pulls the ribbon off and flips the lid off the box in one fell swoop.  
He braces himself and closes his eyes, ready for the inevitable plume of flame, the stabbing sensation of a needle bomb or acid splashing into his eyes.  
Except it never comes.

‘Are you alright?’

Ed opens his eyes at the concern in Penguin’s voice.  
He looks down at the present to see some kind of translucent cube sitting on top of tissue paper inside the box.  
It’s some kind of Rubik’s cube: a puzzle game.

Ed thinks back on all the other presents: a sweater, a box of chocolate chip cookies, some warm socks, a hot water bottle and realises something.

‘You’re not here to kill me’, he voices aloud, the awful realization that he had been denying himself simple pleasures based on a flawed hypothesis crashing into his brain.  
He hates and is unused to being wrong.

Penguin, for his part, bursts out laughing.

‘Why would I want to kill you? Because you tried to kill Jim Gordon without me?’

Penguin waves a hand unconcernedly.

‘That's just an occupational hazard for him’, he continues lightly, ‘He really shouldn’t have taken it so personally’.

‘No!’ Ed cries out, confused by how Penguin can just sit there and make jokes, ‘You want to kill me because I- I turned you away!’

Now, Penguin’s smile fades and Ed mentally kicks himself.  
Has he just unwittingly reminded Penguin of a slight he had actually forgotten due to Strange’s brainwashing?  
Why can’t he keep his mouth shut?!

‘Oh’, Penguin says, brow furrowed.

''Oh?' You mean, you don't remember?!’

Penguin’s fingers drum on the table.

‘Things are just a little fuzzy’, Penguin says thoughtfully, ‘It’s like watching someone play me in a movie but getting all the lines wrong. I suppose that doesn’t make much sense’.

‘No’, Ed says, intrigued by Penguin’s pensive demeanour, ‘That’s, actually how I saw it too’.

Penguin gives an odd shiver as if shaking off a chill and changes the subject.

‘I kept up with your trial. Even tried to speak for you as a character witness’.

‘You did?’

‘I was going to say that you let me go that day at your apartment even though I couldn't have fought back. Hardly the behaviour of the 'crazed killer' the media made you out to be. You let me go even though you knew I might report what you were doing’.

Ed detected the unvoiced question of ‘why’ in Penguin’s words but ignored it.

‘So why didn't you report it?’ he asks, ‘It’s what any ‘sane’ person would have done’.

‘I suppose because even like that, I didn't want to hurt you’, Penguin says in a gentle tone that makes Ed’s chest ache slightly.

He’s misjudged this whole situation with Penguin so badly.

‘But the GCPD wouldn't let me speak’, Penguin continues and for the first time since Ed walked in, there is anger in his voice, ‘They said I was still ‘mentally compromised’ from Strange’s conditioning so my evidence was inadmissible in court. Strange didn't hurt you did he?’

‘Just my pride’, Ed replies, feeling ashamed in the face of such genuine concern for his wellbeing.

‘Good’, Penguin says, his eyes becoming temporarily unfocused, as if he’s seeing another place or time, ‘That's…good’.

‘What exactly did Strange do to y-‘ Ed begins but Penguin interrupts.

‘I would have come to visit you as soon as I was back to normal but... a lot of things happened’.

‘I sense a story behind that’.

‘Maybe next time I’ll tell you’, Penguin says, an undertone of sadness in his voice before visibly forcing himself to brighten, ‘Do you like your present? It’s not just any Rubik’s cube: this ones got a timer so you need to solve it before the colours change position’.

‘Why have you been sending me so many presents?’

‘I know how tedious life in here can be and a brain like yours needs diversion. Don’t think of them as gifts. Think of them as therapy. I just want to help you like you helped me once'.

‘Now I see’.

'What?'

‘I helped you in the woods because I wanted guidance from you. If you want the same thing from me, I’m afraid these gifts may have been wasted. What could I possibly give you trapped in here?’

‘You think I want something from you?’

Ed, frustratingly wrong footed yet again by what only be described as ‘hurt’ in Penguin’s eyes, begins to babble, his brain desperately hoping one of the dozens of theories it has concocted for Penguin’s presence will make more sense if voiced aloud.

'Well at first I assumed you wanted to lecture me about my poor life choices then I thought you wanted to kill me then I thought you wanted to gloat at my pathetic debut as a ‘criminal mastermind’ then maybe that you wanted an apology but now I'm beginning to think that all these presents you've been giving me really aren't...booby trapped'.

There is a tense silence following Ed’s manic theorising.  
Ed is breathing heavily, physically exhausted from worry and the weight of ‘what ifs’ he has just expunged.  
As the last echoes of the tirade die away, Penguin blinks owlishly. 

'You thought I booby trapped a box of cookies?'

‘Yes!’ Ed cries in exasperation and glares at Penguin, ‘What else am I supposed to think?!’

There is another momentary silence before both men burst into peals of hysterical laughter.

‘It sounds like someone’s been thinking way too much!’ Penguin says as their laughter gradually dies away and he wipes mirthful tears from his face.

'I know’, Ed says in a broken voice, 'I-I can't h-help it'.

Ed can’t stop the tears. They had started out as tears of laughter but now, he can feel his shoulders shaking and his heart feels like a lump of stone in his chest.  
He wipes at the tears on his cheeks and refuses to look at Oswald.  
He knows what this is: his body finally releasing the pressure that has been building inside him since the day Gordon arrested him. A storm of emotions that needs to purged before he can resume usual operating efficiency.  
It's happened before. Many times.  
But why does it have to happen now?!  
Penguin will think he’s ridiculous!

‘I’m so sorry’, he mumbles, sniffling, hating how pathetic he sounds but unable to stop talking, ‘I just-I don’t know why I thought that you-I-I don’t deserve-‘

He jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder.  
He looks up to see Penguin looking down at him warmly.  
Ed is taken aback at the ease with which Penguin touches him.  
How long has it been since someone touched him with such gentleness?  
Ed can’t remember.  
Ed takes the pocket square Penguin offers him. Penguin just stands there while Ed vents, his hand never moving from his shoulder.  
It is only when Ed’s sobs subside and he begins to clean his face that Penguin goes back to his seat.

'Being in here’, Penguin says gently as he sits down, ‘I know there's not much to laugh about Ed. The only thing I want (and what I think we could both use) is an intelligent conversation or two'.

Dumbfounded by Penguin’s easy forgiveness of his dismissal but unwilling to lose an opportunity to rekindle the connection between them Ed smiles and nods.  
It feels good to smile and actually mean it.

'I’d like that' he says, feeling a rush of warmth as he grips the pocket square in his hands, 'I promise I'll make it up to you Penguin. Somehow'.

'Oswald, please’, Oswald says before indicating the cube, 'Now come on, show me how it's done'.


End file.
